'Million Dollar Arm' is Jon Hamm's next big play

May 16, 2014
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Jon Hamm and the 'Million Dollar Arm' crew shot part of the movie in India. "It's just a different, wonderfully unique, beautiful, fascinating country," says Hamm, here in a scene from the movie. / Ishika Mohan, AP

by Andrea Mandell, USA TODAY

by Andrea Mandell, USA TODAY

LOS ANGELES - A year ago, sweat drenched the humid set of Million Dollar Arm.

Jon Hamm was in India, hopscotching across the massive country from Agra, where the film's crew hand-carried equipment (per government mandate) in front of the Taj Mahal, to Mumbai, where crowded city-street shots presented logistical nightmares.

When you see a sweat-soaked Hamm in the movie, "literally that was the first take," says director Craig Gillespie (Fright Night, Lars and the Real Girl). "All the makeup and wardrobe team came running in with hair dryers and they started trying to dry him. And I said, 'Guys, don't worry. It's impossible. Let's just go with him being wet.'"

In the film, Hamm plays J.B. Bernstein, a quintessential sports agent ("that guy, hitting the parties," says Hamm) whose company is on the verge of bankruptcy when he decides to find his "Yao Ming" in the last untapped sports market: India.

In real life, Bernstein struck gold, finding Rinku Singh, then 20, and Dinesh Patel, then 19, who flew to America, mastered the game in under a year and were ultimately signed by the Pittsburgh Pirates.

"It's uplifting," says Hamm. "It says so many things about not only J.B., the guy I play, but about these boys, about their work ethic and their commitment to this program, and this plan and this opportunity." The story also led Bernstein to his wife, Brenda - a quick-witted, no-nonsense woman living in his guest house (played by Lake Bell).

Million Dollar Arm is the kind of feel-good adult summer fare that analysts say will polish Hamm's star power outside of AMC's Mad Men.

But breaking from Don Draper's tweedy mold is a tricky play; Hamm has long been anointed in American pop iconography as the ad man, in the vein of James Gandolfini's mafia boss in The Sopranos and Bryan Cranston's formidable chemist in Breaking Bad.

Hamm is so associated with his scotch-swilling cable TV persona "it's really added baggage for an actor trying to segue into film," says Dave Karger, Fandango.com's chief correspondent. "But he's so great as Bernstein that you do really forget about Don Draper. And that's that highest compliment I can pay to him."

A bicoastal life

Retaining a successful personal life inside a mega-watt fame bubble is precious stuff. Hamm has managed it, and has been with his partner, Jennifer Westfeldt, 44, since 1997.

"We're essentially married," he says. "We just don't have a piece of paper or rings."

But marriage is not the end goal, despite a traditional push from the outside world. "My parents got divorced when I was 2," he says. "I have plenty of people in my life that have that mom and dad who have been married for 70, 60, 50 years. They look at that and they're like, 'Well, that's what I want.' But I don't have that ‚?¶ and I'm also very happy."

Westfeldt has returned to the stage in New York, performing in two back-to-back plays, and the bicoastal couple recently purchased an apartment in the city together, with Hamm flying back and forth from their house in Los Feliz every two weeks.

Relationships, he emphasizes, require effort. "The easiest thing to do is nothing. The hardest thing to do is get on a plane: 'I'll be there in six hours.' I'll be (in New York) for 48 hours. And I'll be back to work at six o'clock in the morning. It's not impossible, it just takes doing."

That's Hamm: open, decisive. Funny. A guy who will still fight you for the check (and win). His director says Hamm sets the tone, no matter the scenario.

"Jon has a very strong presence," says Gillespie. "He's a real man. He's a throwback in a sense. There's almost like a paternal aspect to him, like a fatherly figure. It doesn't matter what he says, it seems like the right thing to do and it seems intelligent."

Inside the last days of Mad Men

Eight years ago, Mad Men creator Matthew Weiner was combing through the limited pool of talented, unknown 30- and 40-somethings.

At the time, reminds Weiner, "it was not in style, Hamm's kind of character. His leading man-ness. You get in a window where if you haven't made it by a certain age, those people just sort of disappear. ... This was a guy who was relegated to playing boyfriends."

Most amusing? Weiner found himself petitioning AMC that Hamm was sexy enough to embody Don Draper. "You don't want to be the straight guy arguing for this, but I was like, 'Are you kidding me?' " says Weiner, chuckling.

Today, Hamm is a lauded two-time SNL host, who currently covers Vanity Fair and last week unveiled his wax figure at Madame Tussaud's. His closets are stuffed with dozens of free designer suits. (The irony is not lost on him. "My 25-year-old self could have used one of those suits," he says wryly.)

Hamm is also one of the few who knows how Mad Men ends.

"He's known for awhile," says Weiner of the last episode, which won't air until 2015. The two have hashed out Don for years, with Weiner testing story ideas on his leading man.

But, Weiner cautions, "this is not Lost. I do not have a mystery to answer. What I wanted him to know was literally what I was doing from a creative standpoint and to see the look on his face when he heard it."

For Hamm, every day on the Los Angeles set includes "a creeping dread of just like, you know it's coming, you know it's going to end," he says. "You're very much committed to finishing the story and obviously doing a good job. ‚?¶ But you're like, 'Whoop, we have five more read-throughs.' Then we'll have four more, then one more, then no more read-throughs."

On that last day, will he take Don's briefcase? His hat? His tumbler of scotch?